


movement

by lifegavemelemonsandimsad



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifegavemelemonsandimsad/pseuds/lifegavemelemonsandimsad
Summary: Dan goes for a swim at three in the morning and Phil watches.





	movement

**Author's Note:**

> might make edits later on.
> 
> i desperately wanted to write old(ish) dnp so here they are 8 years from now  
> enjoy  
> x
> 
> (side note: my goal in life is to woo @psychicmoth into painting a piece inspired by something I wrote... this fic plz.)

This is maybe the fifth time Phil has found himself sat in the dark just watching Dan swim. He thinks it's a good thing. This is Dan choosing to do something non-self-destructive to cope with whatever he needs to cope with. Sometimes it's to work off anger, sometimes it's to clear his anxiety ridden mind, sometimes it's to distract himself from existential dread. This time, it's anxiety.

And it seems to be really good for him; a way to let out energy in the comfort and control of their own backyard swimming pool. And when all of England is melting of a heat wave sent from Satan himself, the cool water feels nice.

Right now it's something past three in the morning and its still 31 degrees outside. Phil's in his pants and a t-shirt because it's hot and he couldn't be bothered to put trousers on. Dan's doing laps, darting from one side of the pool to the other without a single breath.

Dan said that needing to have control over his breath is grounding. _It's hard and it's terrifying at first, especially when I can't fucking breathe to begin with. But it feels good._ He's even practiced just sitting at the bottom of the pool and holding his breath for as long as he could, like a child. Phil would count because Dan had asked him to, but also because if Dan was down there for too long he would jump in and pull him out of the water himself.

But Phil knows that tonight it's more about him burning energy; getting rid of that anxious buzz that refuses to let him be. Tonight, Phil's watching because, frankly, it's hot. Dan's hot.

It would be a lot easier to watch, though, if the pool lights were on. But Dan wanted them off, so they're off. Still he sits, curled up on the lawn chair, letting the leaving moon shed whatever light it can.

It's nice, but unfairly so. Phil feels wrong for being rewarded for the agony of his own partner. Maybe this isn’t so much of a reward, then. Now that he's thinking about it, this whole scenario is melancholy. They're alone in their backyard, nothing new or exciting or unexplored. Just two guys who have the world, one swimming his problems away and the other just… watching. The undertones of every detail is sad and Phil isn't fully sure why.

Every once in a while he can hear a car driving by in the distance, but other than that and the few crickets, the only noise is violent splashes as Dan backstrokes across the water. His movement is easy, precise and controlled, but the water surrounding him is anything but that. It's like a metaphor or something. We have control only over our own selves. We can guess and make predictions of how our surroundings will react, but we can never be sure.

It's definitely not that deep. Or at least Phil's not smart enough to make it that deep. Maybe he'll bring it up to Dan later, but he probably won't because provoking thought is something he learned is best to avoid when Dan's head is already at full capacity.

He pushes that away. Dan is settled on the edge of the pool, staring at him and he just stares back. Dan gestures for him to come so that's what he does.

The closer Phil gets to him the easier it is to see the restless tired in Dan's eyes. He sits on the edge of the pool and dips his legs in. The water is warmer than last time, but still cool and refreshing. Rough concrete scratches his bare thigh as he scoots closer to the edge. His arm reaches out, open palm facing the stars. Dan moves closer and Phil holds Dan's chin until their faces are a breath apart.

“Lovely.” Phil whispers to the eyes in front of his. A nose pushes into his cheek and its warm and nice, then it's gone. Dan turns around and slots his back between Phil's legs.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Phil says quietly as the tips of his fingers trace the broadness of Dan's shoulders.

Dan shakes his head and sighs, “A lot.”

He places a hand on the back of Dan's bicep and gives it a tiny push that says _give me your hand_ , and Dan does. Phil's fingers drag up the back of Dan's big hand and knit together with his. He leans down and plants a soft kiss on his head of wet curls, the taste of chlorine bitter on his lips.

“Too much.” Dan whispers.

Phil lets go of Dan's hand and returns his attention to his shoulders. “It's always too much.” He squeezes firmly and slides his hands up to his neck, then back down to his shoulders again, digging his thumbs into the stiff muscles above Dan's shoulder blades.

Phil realizes the sting those words could have, but they don't seem to hurt Dan.

Dan knows Phil's intentions like a heavy accent he had to learn to decipher. What Phil says isn't always what Phil means, and in the beginning that was hard for Dan to figure out. Arguments and anger all because of a little misunderstanding.

Now it's second nature, sometimes Phil doesn't even have to open his mouth. That's a bond that can only truly exist in fifteen year old relationships, and fuck yes they take pride in that. Most of everything was easy and that's what kept them going, but the hard times felt impossible. Even then, Phil wouldn't change any of it. Look at them now, Practically having a conversation without saying a word. That's the reward for being dedicated.

Phil takes a deep breath. They did that. They got here.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks, tapping Phil's foot underwater. Phil realizes his hands stopped, so he starts massaging Dan's neck again and Dan leans into it.

“Us.” Phil says simply.

Dan chuckles, “That's cute.”

Phil doesn't say anything, he just smiles and continues pushing little circles into Dan's gold skin. The sky is getting lighter, half of the stars have flickered off and for the first time tonight the air has a cold bite to it that comes with a breeze. Goosebumps raise on Phil's arms, but Dan is warm against his calves.

He looks around, finding shapes and objects easier to identify than an hour ago or so. It's the amount of dark that makes everything lose it's color. Lines are still sharp and edges still clear, but the world just seems darker and muted. Like a weird Instagram filter but in real life, and Phil doesn't hate it, though he doesn't love it either.

“I'm gonna turn into a raisin if I don't get out soon.”

Phil leans over him and lets his hands slide down to lay flat against his chest. Dan looks up and their eyes can just barely meet from this angle. Phil kisses the top of his head again, “Get out, then.”

Dan pushes his nose into Phil's arm and Phil moves his hands back to his neck. “But it feels good.” Dan whines and Phil laughs, “And if I get out I know you'll stop.”

“Mm, oh well.” Phil pats Dan's shoulders and gets up. The air against his wet legs gives him chills. He looks up and breathes the scent of early morning, stretching his arms above his head.

Dan's at the edge of the pool resting his head on his arms, dark eyes staring. “Have I ever told you how much I love your ass.”

Phil chuckles, eyebrows furrowed. “Nope, never.”

“Well then, I love your butt very much.”

He shakes his head. “Get out, raisin. I want to fall back asleep at a socially acceptable hour.”

Dan groans. “Get me a towel.” He pushes himself out, not bothering to go to the stairs.

Phil just watches. The water cascades so perfectly off Dan's body. He's like one of those ancient Greek statues, but real and better, somehow. The water only tones him further, highlighting his collarbones and lats and the sharp hips that sit just above the waistband of his swim trunks. His arms cross and his back hunches.

“It's fucking cold, get me a towel!” Dan hisses and Phil hurries to get the one he left inside on the table. He throws it and Dan catches it with one hand, slinging it across his back and wrapping around himself.

Phil walks over and holds Dan's face, a bead of water forms on his temple so Phil swipes it away. Dan's face is prettiest up close like this. He kisses his lips softly, finding comfort in the way Dan lingers longer than Phil initially intended.

“Better, or worse?” Phil asks.

“Better, I think.”

Phil gives him another peck, “Good.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know, I left my phone in the bedroom.” he steps away to peek his head inside and look at the clock. “Like, five thirty.”

Dan laughs and dries off the rest of his body. “Is it too late to go back to bed?”

“Fuck no. I'm tired.” Phil steps inside and Dan follows, sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Phil sighs as he sits on the bed, so soft under his hands and bum compared to the jagged concrete of the pool ledge. Dan takes off his wet swim trunks goes into the bathroom to hang them and the towel on the shower curtain. He walks across the room to the dresser to find some dry pants. He's all legs, gorgeous legs. He's so pretty from this angle, soft and tall and damp skin glistening in the low lamp-light. Dan looks much taller when he's naked.

He slips on some black Calvin's and settles under the duvet, curling slightly and opening his arm where Phil fits against his chest.

Cold sheets and a heavy arm hold Phil and make him feel small. Phil is smaller than Dan. He thinks it's crazy how someone so big can feel smaller than an ant.

Dan adjusts and hitches a leg over Phil's. This is where Phil figures an 'I love you' would go if this was twelve years ago. They're past that, now. They still mean it, of course, but they don’t really need to say it anymore. Perhaps it's sad, but Phil finds it comforting. They've still got such a grip on each other. No one's going anywhere and he knows that, sometimes Phil just feels weird finding himself in an old, more like mature relationship. He doesn’t feel… Mature. But he guesses that's what 40 is considered.

Life is slow right now, but they're okay.


End file.
